Forever
by Chapin CSI
Summary: Slash. Gil & Greg. Sequel to 23 hours. A love beyond the grave story. It's been a year since Gil died, and Greg finds it difficult to cope. Character death story. Story rewritten on May, 2007.


SLASH Gil/Greg

Do you want to have a good cry? Go ahead and read: A death story, with a 'life after death' ending.

Please read the prequel, "Twenty-three hours."

This story was rewritten on May 2007.

* * *

"Time has passed so fast," Greg said with a sigh.

Warrick gave him a sympathetic nod. He, too, found it hard to believe that a whole year had passed since Gil Grissom's death.

Warrick had traveled all the way from New Orleans just to be with Greg on this particular day. His intention had been to celebrate the memory of the man he had loved and respected, but also to keep company to the man who had withstood the biggest loss: Greg Sanders.

Warrick was glad that things had gone so well; they'd gone to a baseball game, they'd visited Gil's museum, and then they'd come to Greg's favorite restaurant for dinner.

Greg smiled faintly after the waiter brought them a final glass of wine.

"I appreciate this, Warrick."

"Hey, it's ok." The older man said. He paused before adding, "I figured you'd like some company today."

"Oh, yeah." Greg nodded. "I mean, it's been hard all year long, but today -" He paused.

"I know," Warrick said, "It's been hard on me, too. I mean, I was sad when Brass and Doc Robbins passed away, but Gil… He was a friend and a mentor. A father figure, even. He was one of those people you expect to be there forever for you, and suddenly…"

"Yeah." Greg nodded, looking down. He was overcome with emotion.

Warrick discreetly glanced away, giving his friend a little time to put himself together.

Warrick looked around at the restaurant. He liked it; he liked the fact that they kept things quiet –from the music to the unobtrusive service. They left you alone so you could have a nice, private conversation. Just the right place for a couple of middle aged men to talk about the past.

Warrick winced. The term 'middle aged' no longer fit him; he was already in his early sixties.

Greg had just turned fifty one, but he looked older; his hair had turned almost white in a year- Gil's death had been a shock for everyone, but for Greg it had been devastating.

Warrick felt sorry for his friend.

"Hey," Warrick said, "You were good to him; you made him happy. That was great, you know?"

"_He_ was great." Greg said. "It was a shame that…"

He didn't continue, but Warrick knew what he meant. Grissom would still be alive today but for a malignant tumor that couldn't be operated on. Gil had taken the news calmly, deciding against any invasive treatment. Instead, he and Greg had traveled for a couple of months, returning only when Grissom finally couldn't manage without aggressive pain medication.

"He was very brave." Greg said. "Up until the last minute, he was lucid and serene. But he was in pain, so… in a sense it was a relief, when…"

Greg took a deep breath.

"Hey, man. I know."

They were silent for a while.

"So, what about you," Warrick asked, "What have you been doing?"

"I've just finished editing Gil's last book." Greg said, "It'll be out by next spring."

"Hey, that's great." Warrick approved, "Any plans to return to the lab?"

Greg had taken a leave of absence in order to take care of Grissom and hadn't gone back.

"I don't know." Greg said, "It's weird, Warrick. You know I worked without Gil for almost ten years. But now… Now I can't imagine going back to the lab."

"You take your time." Warrick said, "There are options, man. You could teach."

Greg listened to Warrick's suggestions and nodded at all of them.

The truth was, he couldn't make himself care enough about the future.

Lately, he felt older than his fifty-one years. Tired. Sometimes all he wanted was to curl up and sleep, but once he got to bed, all he did was lie down and stare at the ceiling.

He was lonely, plain and simple. Completely alone.

Warrick's invitation had given him a nice respite, but the older man was flying back home in a couple of hours.

There was only one source of comfort left.

* * *

Greg entered the townhouse and turned on the lights. He hadn't been at Grissom's place in over a month; the place needed a little dusting and airing.

He and Grissom had kept separate homes even after their relationship became known to their closest friends, but Greg didn't mind. He knew that Grissom would always need some space, and besides, the older man stayed with him most of the time. It was only after Grissom's death that Greg found himself torn between two places.

He had even tried to live permanently at Grissom's place but the memories of his friend and lover were just too painful. Still, he couldn't let go of the place. He'd compromised by coming by about once a month. He cleaned the place and took care of any repairs, and then he spent the night.

He slept. And dreamed.

He always dreamed of Grissom when he slept here, and his dreams were so vivid, he always woke up feeling like they had actually been together. Of course, it was devastating to wake up and realize that it had only been a dream, but every time he came here, he hoped it would happen again.

Tonight, Greg was too tired to do any cleaning. He couldn't even muster enough energy to make the bed, so he decided to take a nap in the living room instead. Greg lay down on the couch. From there he could look at the reclining chair he bought for Grissom five years ago, and at the bookcases, and at the various mementos they had acquired over the years. Everything Gil had loved.

Greg took a deep breath and then he prayed for a dream.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"I asked you to sell the house."

Greg smiled but didn't immediately open his eyes. He always enjoyed the anticipation of seeing Gil again. He didn't wait for long, though; he needed to see him. He blinked his eyes open.

Grissom was sitting on the reclining chair, looking at him.

Greg smiled.

"Gil." He said. Grissom looked healthy now. He was tanned, and his beard had less white than in later years. He looked just like he did when they first started dating.

"We are the same age, now." Greg said with a smile.

"In your dreams," Grissom said gently.

Greg smiled wistfully.

"I miss you, baby."

Grissom pretended not to hear.

"I'm worried about you." he said in a business-like tone, "You missed your last medical check-up; your heart-"

"My heart is broken." Greg said quietly.

Grissom winced. He paused for a moment, as if choosing his next words with care.

"Greg," he said, "I asked you not to come anymore, remember?"

"I had to. This is my home, now."

"This is where I died." Grissom said brutally.

"Yes." Greg said with some difficulty. "I know. I was here, remember? I was holding you in my arms when you -"

"I remember." Grissom said quietly, "You helped me, Greg. You were there for me and I am grateful for that. But it was a year ago. You need to forget -" Gil paused for a moment, trying to compose himself. He didn't want to show his own pain; right now all he wanted was to convince Greg to move on. "You have to let go of me-"

"Can't."

"You have to," Gil said gently, "Remember what I told you then? I told you to sell the house and to get rid of the memories -"

"I can't let go of this place, Gil." He said stubbornly.

"You have to. Listen. I want you to be happy." Gil said, "I want you to go out and have fun-" He smiled tenderly, "Go and find yourself a young man who turns your life upside down the way you did with mine."

"I don't want anybody else." Greg said simply.

Grissom sighed. He rose.

"Are you angry?" Greg asked, knowing that Gil would never be mad at him.

"I'm not," Gil said gently, "But it hurts to see you doing this -"

"I miss you."

There was such hopelessness in Greg's voice, that Grissom felt the need to comfort him. He reached out tentatively to touch Greg's upturned face but he abruptly withdrew his hand, as if Greg's closeness burned him.

"Please-" Greg said trying to sit up, "Please, touch me."

"No." Grissom took a step back. "I can't, Greg-"

"Please-" Greg tried to rise but couldn't. It always happened like this in his dreams. He reached out with one hand, "Let me touch you, then."

"No." Grissom said gently. "Greg, we've had this conversation before. Remember?"

Greg sat back, defeated.

"It's lonely, Grissom."

There was pain and despair in those words.

Grissom looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

"It's so lonely -" Greg whispered.

Grissom took a couple of tentative steps and offered his hand to Greg, who avidly took it between his.

"Grissom." He said breathlessly. He gently pulled Grissom's hand and pressed it against his chest.

Grissom felt Greg's heart beating under his palm.

Almost immediately, he knew there was something wrong. Greg's heart needed constant monitoring. Greg shouldn't have missed his medical appointment -

"Greg." Gil said as a warning, but the younger man had closed his eyes, a smile of relief gracing his lips.

The dream had never been so real. He didn't feel lonely anymore.

He felt as if the world was dissolving around him. He was part of the dream now. Gil's hand in his felt more real than the couch under him.

Suddenly, Greg started having trouble breathing. His body started to shake, as if he were having a seizure.

Greg opened his eyes and glanced around. A piercing pain broke into his chest.

"Oh, God." He whispered, suddenly panicking. He tried to sit up.

And then he heard Gil's voice.

"Greg, it's ok."

Greg glanced around, looking for the voice's source.

"It's ok." the voice said again, and this time, Greg actually felt Gil's hand in his.

"Gil?" he whispered, recognizing the man kneeling by his side. "You _are_ here -"

"Yes." Grissom said, leaning forward and dropping a kiss on Greg's forehead. "I'm here. I'm going to stay with you ok? You won't be alone, baby."

Those had been Greg's words a year ago.

Grissom whispered into Greg's ear.

"And then we'll be together." Grissom's said.

Greg smiled then.

And then he closed his eyes.

* * *

THE END 


End file.
